CHARNOCK TRIES HIS STRENGTH
The skip that crossed the river was loaded, and Charnock and Festing
were forced to wait until it came back. They climbed to a platform on
the bridge-pier and stood for some minutes, shivering in the wind. The
skip would only carry one, and when it arrived Charnock made Festing get
in.
“You were in the water longest,” he said. “Get aboard as quick as you
can!”
Festing was swung across the river, but waited until Charnock arrived,
when they ran up the hill to the former's shack. The fire was out and
Festing's face was blue, while Charnock's teeth chattered as he threw
off his clothes. Festing gave him another suit.
“I'm afraid they're not very dry, but they're the best I've got,” he
said. “You did a plucky thing, Bob.”
“Not at all, and you would, no doubt, have landed if I hadn't come. You
see, the skip was starting and I didn't stop to think. But it's horribly
cold. Where's your towel?”
He put on the half-dry clothes and went to the door. “I'm not often in
such a hurry to get back to work, but if I don't move I'll freeze. See
you later!”
“Stop a moment,” Festing called. “Do you find the bunk-house
comfortable?”
“It's not luxurious, but doesn't leak very much unless it rains
unusually hard.”
“Then why not come up here at night? I haven't another bunk or I'd have
suggested it before, but a carload of ship-lap has arrived and I dare
say Kerr will let me have a few boards.”
“Thanks; I'd like that,” said Charnock, who hurried away.
Soon afterwards Festing resumed his work. Kerr allowed him to take the
boards, and when he had finished his supper Charnock came in. Sitting
down by the fire, he filled his pipe.
“There's more room here and you can dry your clothes,” he remarked,
stretching out his legs to the blaze.
“We're going to talk about what happened this morning,” Festing replied.
“I was getting exhausted when you jumped off the skip.”
“After all, I only gave you a push now and then. I was fresh, and
imagine I swim better than you.”
“It's possible. I don't swim very well.”
“Then why did you go into the rapid? I call it a blamed silly thing!”
“I felt I had to recover the skip.”
“Not at all,” said Charnock, with a grin. “The skip could have stopped
where it was. For a man who thinks much, you're ridiculously illogical;
got no proper sense of relative values. Your business is to carry out
your contract, and not risk your life for a rusty bucket.”
“You risked yours!”
“I didn't. The only risk I ran was knocking your head off with my heavy
boots. But if you hadn't begun the folly, I wouldn't have jumped, if the
river had been full of the company's skips.”
Then the door opened and the head contractor's engineer came in.
“You did a plucky thing to-day, Festing,” he began; but Charnock
interrupted.
“Don't spoil my argument, Mr. Norton. I've been proving he made a fool
of himself.”
“Then there were two of you,” Norton rejoined. “The trolley was running
fast, and if you had dropped a few yards farther out, you wouldn't have
got back.” He turned to Festing. “I was rather mad about it when you
broke the wire, and of course wanted the skip. Still I didn't mean you
to take a risk like that. We could have fixed the thing.”
“A matter of bookkeeping?” Charnock suggested. “Much depends on how you
charge up your costs, and one understands that doing it cleverly leads
to promotion. The worst is when you come to the total--”
“I'll talk to you later. You're up against a big proposition, Festing;
but if you find yourself in a tight place and I've a man or two to
spare, or can help---”
“Thanks; I may take advantage of your promise,” Festing replied, and
Norton turned to Charnock.
“You are doing better than I expected when Dalton sent you along.”
“I imagine my recent activity would surprise my friends, and you're a
stranger. However, I suppose I've got to keep it up so long as I work on
the road.”
“That's sure,” said the other dryly. “Well, I didn't think it prudent to
give you much at first, and now I'll mark you up an extra fifty cents.”
He stopped a few minutes, and when he went out Charnock laughed. “Not
a bad sort, but I'm puzzled by my satisfaction at getting three dollars
more a week. If I wanted a check not long since, I'd only to look
penitent and go to Sadie.”
After this, they sat smoking quietly for a time, and then Charnock drew
up his legs and frowned.
“What's the matter?” Festing asked.
“Nothing much,” said Charnock. “I've got a bit of a weakness I don't
think you know about. Neuralgic, I imagine; it grips me here.” He
indicated the region between his belt and chest. “Comes and goes when
I'm not quite up to my proper form.”
“Then I expect jumping into the river and standing about in wet clothes
brought it on.”
“No; I have had it before. Besides, I've often been as wet; so have you.
Anyhow, the pain's going, and there's a thing I forgot to mention. I met
Wilkinson this afternoon.”
Festing knitted his brows. “Wilkinson! What do you think has brought
him?”
“Chance and Sadie's scheming. I've cause to suspect she forced him off
his ranch, though she would probably wish she hadn't meddled if she knew
she'd sent him here. As he looked surprised when he saw me, I imagine
he'd no particular object in coming, except that he wanted a job.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“I did not. It's very possible he'd have resented my remarks. Then I was
on the company's business and the foreman was about.”
“Well,” said Festing thoughtfully, “it might be better to keep out of
his way as far as you can. I don't know that he's likely to do us harm,
but wish he had gone somewhere else.”
They let the matter drop and talked about other things until they went
to bed. Next morning broke bracingly cold, but thin mist rolled among
the pines a few hundred feet above the track. For the most part the
climate of the interior of British Columbia is dry, and there are belts
where artificial irrigation is employed, but some of the valleys form
channels for the moist winds from the Pacific. Except in the bitter
cold-snaps, it was seldom that the white peaks above the track were
visible, and now something in the atmosphere threatened heavy rain.
Charnock began his work as usual with the gravel gang. It was his
business to spread the ballast thrown off the cars by the plow that
traveled along the train, and although the labor was not exhausting it
had tried his strength at first. His muscles, however, were hardening,
and until the last few days, he had been able to scatter heavy
shovelfuls of stones with a dexterous jerk that distributed them among
the ties.
Streaks of dingy haze that looked like steam rose from the river. The
fresh smell of pines hung about the track, and the clash of shovels and
ringing of hammers mingled harmoniously with the deep-toned roar of
the rapids. The cold braced the muscles and stirred the blood, and
the sounds of activity had an invigorating influence while the day was
young, but Charnock felt slack. His pain had gone, but he was conscious
of a nervous tension and knew what it meant. A small blister on his hand
annoyed him, he growled at comrades who got in his way, and swore when
the gravel fell in the wrong place. Somehow he could not get the stuff
to go where it ought.
For all that, he felt no serious inconvenience until about eleven
o'clock, when a stinging pain spread across the front of his body. For
a few moments he leaned on his shovel and gasped, but the pang moderated
and he roused himself when the foreman looked his way. He must try to
hold out for another hour, and he savagely attacked his pile of stones.
When the echoes of the whistle filled the hollow he had some trouble in
reaching the bunk-house, but felt better after dinner and a smoke, which
he enjoyed sitting on a box by the stove; but the time for rest was
short. The foreman drove him out, and feeling very sore and stiff, he
resumed work.
About four o'clock another pang shot through him and he dropped his
shovel and sat down on a heap of ties, hoping to get a few minutes'
rest before the gravel train came up. The pain was troublesome, but not
dangerous. It might only bother him for a day or two, but it might last
a week. Rest was the best cure, but sick men were not wanted at the
camp. One must work or go, and when a cascade of gravel poured off the
cars as the plow moved along he pulled himself together.
It began to rain soon afterwards and he had left his slickers at the
bunk-house, but he stuck to his work, while the sweat the effort caused
him ran down his face, until the whistle blew. Then he went limply up
the hill to Festing's shack.
“I thought I'd have supper with you, if you don't mind,” he said. “Felt
I couldn't stand for joining the boys. They've annoyed me all day and
eat like hogs.”
Festing gave him a sharp glance. Bob did not often lose his temper, but
he looked morose.
“Of course I don't mind. Sit down.”
Charnock did so, and when Festing had filled his plate resumed: “This
food is decently cooked, and I like my supper served and not thrown at
me. Still, in view of what we're charged for board, it's annoying to
think the contractor will be richer for a meal I haven't got.”
“It's a new thing to find you parsimonious. I hope you'll keep it up.”
Charnock's gloomy face softened. “I mean to. I'm thinking of Sadie's
feelings when I come home with a wad of five-dollar bills. She won't be
surprised; she'll get a shock.”
He talked with better humor during the meal, but was silent afterwards
and sat with half-closed eyes, stretching out his feet towards the
crackling logs. Although the pain had nearly gone, it would, no doubt,
begin again in the morning, and he might have some trouble in hiding his
weakness from the foreman. He could lay off for a day or two, but as
his wages would stop and his board would be charged, it would cost him
something. Besides, if he laid off once or twice, he would be told to
leave.
This, however, did not account for his moodiness. He knew of no cure
except rest, but it was easy to find relief; a small dose of spirit
would banish the pain for a time. The remedy was dangerous, particularly
to him, since it offered an excuse for repeated indulgence, and he
struggled with the temptation. Liquor was difficult to get, because
there was no settlement for some distance and the engineers had tried to
cut off supplies, but it could be got. In fact, Charnock knew where he
could buy as much whisky as he wanted, at something above its proper
price. So far he had not done so, but continued self-denial would
require a stern effort. A drink would banish the pain and enable him to
work.
He had not known it fail since he drove over to Wilkinson's one
afternoon, when he had been loading prairie hay since early morning and
had forgotten his lunch. He reached the homestead scarcely able to sit
upright on the driving seat, and a man asked him what was the matter.
When Charnock told him he sent Wilkinson for whisky.
“I know all about it; the blamed thing grips me now and then if I work
too hard and cut out a meal,” he said. “I'll fix you up for the rest of
the day, but won't answer for your feeling pert to-morrow.”
As a matter of fact, Charnock had felt worse, but obtained relief
by increasing the dose. Indeed, he had once or twice done so with
unfortunate consequences; but after Sadie bought the farm and saw he led
a regular life the pain had gone and had not returned until he went to
work on the track. Now he was not going to give in, but did not want to
talk, and was glad that Festing was occupied with some calculations and
left him alone.
Next morning he felt better and had two days' ease, after which the pain
wrung him for the rest of the week. Somehow he stuck to his work, and
his comrades, who were rudely sympathetic, helped him to elude the
foreman's watchfulness. It was obvious that he could not keep it up,
but the trouble often ended suddenly. Then an evening came when he could
scarcely drag himself to the bunk-house for supper. It had rained all
day and the building was overheated by a glowing stove and filled with
the smell of rank tobacco and steaming clothes. Charnock could not eat
the roughly served food, and for a time sat slack and limp, with the
sweat upon his face, and his arms on the table. Then he got on his feet
awkwardly and set off for Festing's shack.
The rain and cold revived him, but walking was difficult, and when he
reached the shack he fell into a chair. Festing was not in, and Charnock
remembered he had said something about having extra work to do. It was
dark, but the log fire threw out a red light, and by and by Charnock,
glancing round as the shadows receded, thought there was something
unusual on the table. It looked like a bottle, but they kept no liquor
in the shack. Festing was abstemious but Charnock suspected that he had
practised some self-denial for his sake.
He waited until a blaze sprung up, and then his relaxed pose stiffened.
It was a bottle of whisky, better stuff than the railroaders generally
drank, for he knew the label. Moreover, when the light touched the glass
the yellow reflection showed that it was full. He got up and approached
the table, wondering how the liquor came there, until he saw some
writing on the label. Picking up the bottle, he read his own name.
He put it down abruptly and stood with his hand clenched. The veins
swelled on his forehead and the pain nearly left him as he fought with
temptation. It was some weeks since he had tasted liquor, but this was
not all. A drink would give him relief from the gnawing ache and perhaps
a night's sound sleep. If he could get that, he might be well for most
of the next day. But he shrank from the remedy. There was liquor enough
to last some days, but the next bottle would not last as long, and he
knew there would be another. He must resist and conquer his craving now.
He opened the door and picked up the bottle by the neck. With a swing of
his arm he could throw it among the pines; he wanted to hear it smash.
Victory could be won by a quick movement; but afterwards? The touch of
the glass and the way the yellow liquid gleamed in the light fired his
blood. If he was to win an enduring victory, he must fight to a finish.
Leaving the bottle in the light, he moved his chair and sat down close
by, after which he looked at his watch. He would give himself half an
hour. If he could hold out now, he need not be afraid again, because the
odds against him would never be so heavy. The craving was reenforced by
pain and bodily fatigue; his jangled nerves demanded a stimulant. Yet
to win would make the next conflict easier, and he had resources that he
tried to marshal against the enemy.
The rough work on the track had given him confidence. He had always had
physical courage and muscular strength, and it was something to feel he
could hold his own with his comrades at a strenuous task. Moreover, his
saving Festing from the river had restored his self-respect. But he had
stronger allies, and his face got hot as he thought of the two women who
had fought for him when he had scarcely tried to help himself.
Sadie had given up her ambitions and was content to live at the lonely
farm because she thought it best for him. He remembered the bitter
disappointments he had brought her and how he had found her sitting,
depressed and tired, at his neglected work when he came home from
some fresh extravagance. Sometimes she had met him with the anger he
deserved, but as a rule she had shown a patience that troubled him now.
Then there was Helen, who had borne slander and estrangement from her
husband for his sake. Both had made costly sacrifices, of which he was
unworthy; but it was unthinkable that the sacrifices should be made in
vain.
Perhaps it was his imagination, or the proximity of relief, but the
physical torment he suffered got worse. He could not sit straight,
and leaned forward, with head bent and hands grasping the sides of his
chair, until he looked at his watch. Ten minutes had gone, but he must
hold out for twenty minutes more. Fumbling awkwardly in his pocket, he
got his tobacco pouch. He did not want to smoke, but could occupy some
time by filling his pipe, and did so with slow deliberation. Then he let
the match go out as an idea dawned on him. The bottle had been put there
with an object.
Wilkinson hated Sadie. He had struck at her and injured Helen, but had
plotted a harder blow. The plot had, however, miscarried, for Charnock
almost forgot his pain in his fury. The fellow was a dangerous reptile,
and could not be allowed to hurt Sadie by his poisonous tricks. Charnock
meant to punish him, but must first overcome the insidious ally the
other had counted on. He looked at his watch again. A quarter of an hour
had gone; he felt stronger, and more confident. For all that, the fight
was stern, and at length Festing, entering quietly, was surprised to
find Charnock sitting with his watch in his hand. His brows were knit;
his face looked pinched and damp.
“What are you doing, Bob?” he asked.
“Trying my strength,” said Charnock, who got up. “Three minutes yet to
go, but I think we can take it that I've won.”
“I don't understand. Is this a joke?”
“Do I look as if I'm joking?” Charnock rejoined, with a forced smile.
“Anyhow, I'd like you to notice that I'm perfectly sober and this bottle
has not been opened, although I've sat opposite it for nearly half an
hour. I'd have finished the half-hour if you had not come in.”
Festing picked up the bottle and read the writing. “Who brought the
thing here?”
“I suspect Wilkinson. He knows a drink would stop the pain.”
“Ah,” said Festing quietly. “I think I understand! You have made a good
fight, Bob, and I believe you've won. But we'll take precautions; it
will be some satisfaction to throw out the stuff.”
He went to the door, but Charnock stopped him.
“Hold on! I mean to keep the satisfaction to myself. Give me the cursed
thing!”
Festing put the bottle in his hand, and opening the door Charnock swung
it round his head and let it go. There was a crash as it struck a tree,
and he went back to his chair.
“That's done with! It's remarkable, but I don't feel as sore as I did.
Perhaps the effort of resisting was a counter-irritant. However, we have
said enough about it. Tell me how you got on with the job that kept you
late.”